


I Should Tell You

by Juul



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Edinburgh, Edinburgh Fringe Festival, Fluff, M/M, Marauders' Era, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-04
Updated: 2016-11-04
Packaged: 2018-08-27 21:56:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8418382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Juul/pseuds/Juul
Summary: R/S Games 2016 - Day 25 - Team PlaceBecause of a pureblood relative visiting, Sirius can’t stay at James’s for the full summer. Or, well, he could, but it would end in disaster. So Sirius stays with Remus. But: Remus is going to Edinburgh for the Fringe Festival. Sirius ends up accompanying him.





	

**Author's Note:**

> **Team:** Place  
>  **Title:** I Should Tell You  
>  **Rating:** Teen  
>  **Warnings:** None  
>  **Genres:** Romance  
>  **Word Count:** 2300  
>  **Summary:** Because of a pureblood relative visiting, Sirius can’t stay at James’s for the full summer. Or, well, he could, but it would end in disaster. So Sirius stays with Remus. But: Remus is going to Edinburgh for the Fringe Festival. Sirius ends up accompanying him.  
>  **Notes:** _Young Americans_ is a song by David Bowie. Waverley Station in Edinburgh is the only train station in the world named after a book. The musical the boys see is _RENT!_ for which there are some spoilers in here. If you don’t know it, have a listen, because it is perfection. The song at the end is called _Take Me Or Leave Me,_ and it’s also from _RENT!_ Brownie points for those of you who know why I picked the Elephant House.  
>  **Prompt:** #60 - "Who am I? I’m just a writer. I write things down.  
>  I walk through your dreams and invent the future. Sure,  
> I sink the boat of love, but that comes later. And yes, I swallow  
> glass, but that comes later.  
> And the part where I push you  
> flush against the wall and every part of your body rubs against the bricks,  
> shut up  
> I’m getting to it."  
> \- Richard Siken, _Litany in Which Certain Things Are Crossed Out_

“Crap!”

They were all sitting in the Common Room: James, Sirius, Remus and Peter. Lily was sort of hove-ring outside of their circle, checking out the curve of James’ neck and back while pretending to read a book. Remus noticed her furtive looks; he was an expert at concealing his own longing and knew how to recognize it in others. He tried to catch Lily’s eye and wink at her, but James was still ranting, which seemed more urgent.

“Shite, man.”

The owl that had just delivered him a letter started pecking at Peter for a treat, which Remus secretly found unbearably funny. Peter didn’t dare shove the Potters’ beloved family bird away, but he was clearly averse to the attention.

“What is it, Prongs?” Sirius was concerned. Next to James, he was the one most closely connected to the Potters.

“Aunt Dorea is coming!” announced James, in the tone of someone proclaiming the end of the world.

Sirius let himself sink back into the thick burgundy carpet, his hands covering his face, all the while making disgusted retching noises.

Remus allowed himself three seconds of looking at the way Sirius’ muggle shirt rode up and revealed the flat of his stomach and its dark, thin hairs. His hipbones made a clear v-shape down to-wards his skin-tight jeans. Okay, that was definitely more than three seconds. Lily had caught him looking. Thankfully, Sirius was too busy being a drama queen to notice.

“When?” he croaked.

James’ tone suddenly went gentle. “I’m sorry mate, it’s the last week of the summer hols. You’ll have to suck it up.”

Sirius whined. Remus wanted to hug him, but didn’t. 

Now Sirius was looking from Wormtail to Remus and back hopefully. Remus saw him struggle: as-king to stay with either of them would feel pathetic, but staying at the Potters when Dorea Black was there would end in disaster. Peter was chewing on a fingernail, completely oblivious.

“Pads,” Remus cleared his throat. “My parents and I will be in Edinburgh that week…”

Sirius interrupted him. “Yes, no, of course. I understand. I wouldn’t want to… Of course you can’t just…”

“Padfoot!” Sirius looked so forlorn that Remus suddenly felt like crying. He loved this boy so much. He loved him so much, and he was forced to watch him be so utterly miserable. It was torture. Remus was once again overwhelmed by the knowledge that he’d do anything to make Sirius happy. Absolutely anything. In a sense, he already had; he’d forgiven Sirius for a number of really, really bad fuckups.

“Padfoot. Would you like to go to the Edinburgh Fringe Festival with me?”

Sirius’ smile lit up the room. “The Edinburgh Fringe Festival. How absolutely marvelous. The festival of festivals. The fringe of fringes. Of course, Moony, I would.”

Sirius aimed his wand at the record player. _Young Americans_ started playing. Sirius stood up, already swaying to the beat. His hips moving from left to right were momentarily distracting. He allowed Sirius to pull him upright and twirl him around like a ballerina. Suddenly, they were dancing. They were dancing the way couples did. Sirius pulled him closer, until his mouth was right next to Remus’ ear. His breath scorchingly hot, he whispered: “Moony, what is a Fringe Festival?”

Remus threw his head back and laughed.

************************************

Remus could never remember how much he loved Edinburgh if he hadn’t been there for a while. In Edinburgh, everything appeared brighter to him, more alive. It was the same feeling being around Sirius gave him, so when he spotted Sirius at their arranged meeting place in front of Waverley station, Remus took off at a run towards him. His parents were yelling for him to slow down and be careful, but Remus couldn’t care less. Sirius was here, with him, in Edinburgh. The full moon was weeks away and Sirius was wearing a grey turtleneck that matched the color of his eyes. It made his shoulders appear even broader, yet still somehow emphasized the slenderness of his perfect, perfect waist. It was a perfect, perfect moment, and before Remus knew what he was doing, he pulled Sirius into a bone-crushing hug.

Sirius laughed warmly against his neck.

“Missed me, did you?”

Remus didn’t say anything to that. He didn’t need to.

Sirius laughed, and when Remus pulled away, both of them we’re blushing.

“Hello, Sirius, dear.” Hope was a plump woman, kind and motherly. There was a hint of melancholy in her eyes, but Remus had long since learned to ignore it; the fact that you made your parents un-happy was better left ignored.

“Hello, Mrs. Lupin!” Sirius shook her hand enthusiastically then quickly moved on to Lyall, who was smiling indulgently. “Thank you so much for letting me spend the week with you, sir, m’am.”

“There’s no need for such niceties, my boy. Please, call me Lyall. And it’s our pleasure to have you.”

Remus’ mother seemed already to be incredibly fond of Sirius. She snatched his aristocratic hand back from her husband, shook it again, and whispered, as though divulging a great secret: “Hope, please, call me Hope.”

Sirius nodded. Remus wondered whether he knew how enchanted and intoxicating he was. Per-haps he just assumed everybody was always flustered and awkward around everybody. Perhaps he thought the effect he had on everyone all the time, making them blush and stammer and offer him gifts and favours was nothing special. Yet Sirius was the most special thing in the world. Remus blinked rapidly a few times to ensure everything was real, then grabbed Sirius by the arm and started dragging him towards the Royal Mile.

“Padfoot?” They were walking arm in arm, just like a couple, Hope and Lyall mirroring their stance a few feet behind them. “Did you grow out your hair?”

The city was crowded and noisy and Sirius leaned closer to make out what Remus was saying. His long hair wasn’t in a ponytail and it tickled Remus’ neck.

“Don’t be silly, Moony,” he said, ruffling his locks in a way Remus definitely considered silly. “I only grew out my _fringe._

Remus barked with laughter.

************************************

“Are you sure your parents won’t mind?” Sirius asked for the hundredth time.

“I’m absolutely sure, Padfoot. I wanted to see this show. My mum’s always fawning over the ballet, but I absolutely hate it. I’m glad you’re around so we could split up.”

Sirius shuffled in his seat. He was wearing a newly acquired kilt. Perhaps he had simply found one in Gryffindor colours, perhaps he’d transfigured it a bit. The thing was clearly itchy and uncomfortable. Remus stifled a laugh and repressed the urge to ask whether Sirius was wearing anything under it. Sirius shot him a dark look anyway.

“When in Scotland,” he proclaimed grandly, “do as the Scotsonians do!”

“Scotsonians is not a word,” Remus interjected, but Sirius talked over him.

“What’s this play we’re seeing, anyway?”

Remus rolled his eyes. “It’s not a _play,_ it’s a musical. It has singing and dancing and rock music.”

“Rock music?I thought those musical thingies where usually a bore.”

“It’s a rock musical,” explained Remus. Right there, by the glint of those stormy eyes, he could see Sirius was hooked.

But Sirius wouldn’t admit it quite yet. “Silly lot, those Muggles,” he murmured. The lights started to dim and everyone went quiet.

_December 24th, 9 PM, Eastern Standard Time. From here on in I shoot without a script. See if anything comes of it, instead of my old shit._

Remus, who had seen the film version approximately three million times, looked over at Sirius for a moment. He was captivated. He was beautiful.

As always, Remus began to cry when Roger sang _I should tell you / I’m disaster_ He wasn’t considering whether Sirius was enjoying himself anymore. He wasn’t worrying whether his parents were having a nice time. He wasn’t even aware that it wasn’t real. He pictured himself in the Shrieking Shack, undressing before the sun set so he wouldn’t have to buy new robes afterwards. He saw himself at twelve years old, worried about the monster inside of him. During _I’ll Cover You_ he thought of Sirius. Sirius covered him. When they got to _You Are What You Own,_ Remus ran his hand along the frayed holes on his jeans and tried to suppress more tears. He heard Sirius shudder and sob when Angel died, and wondered for a second whether it had been wise to come here.

When the lights came on again, and he saw the awed expression on Sirius’ face mirror his own. he knew it had been a good decision, after all.

“I get it now,” Sirius whispered, anxious not to be overheard. “I know they’re Muggles, Moony, but that was _magical._ Remus smiled. Merlin, he loved that boy so much.

************************************

The Lupins had initially planned to share a room at the Bed & Breakfast so their son could have his own room. However, when Remus had asked them whether Sirius could tag along, it had been decided they’d transfigure Remus’ single bed into a double and the boys would share. Not only was it a practical solution, it was also cheap. That’s why Remus didn’t say anything. He would never. But deep inside, as he crawled into bed next to Sirius, who was already splayed all over the mattress, he felt an all-consuming dread. What if he slipped up? What if he pulled Sirius close by accident, or what if, Merlin forbid, he’d end up with an erection? It had happened before. Around Sirius, it happened all the time. Remus couldn’t verbalize his internal crisis because Sirius, the pillock, was al-ready asleep. So he just lay there, gazing absently out the window, and tried to think of Quidditch and not of the way Sirius was breathing softly beside him.

************************************

Because they had a slight hangover from the emotional rollercoaster of the night before, and in Remus’ case, because he hadn’t slept a wink, the boys decided to take it slow the next morning. They had a full English at some coffee shop called The Elephant House while Lyall and Hope went to the Scottish National Gallery. Sirius quietly asked Remus: “What’s the point of a gallery if the paintings won’t react to insults?” Remus conceded the point.

After breakfast, the boys ambled up and down the Royal Mile. All the while, Sirius made fun of Muggle magicians. 

“Dove in the pocket, really? Moony, that’s a first year’s trick.”

Remus tried not to encourage the arrogance, but secretly reveled in it. From there, they walked down Cockburn Street, where Sirius loved all the alternative little shops and made a number of lewd jokes. When they got to the Princes Street Gardens, Remus had a brief moment of panic: Sirius had disappeared. But then a huge black dog started licking his face and Remus went to look for a big stick. All was well. Or, almost all. Because deep inside Remus still felt a little lost, a little lonely. Sirius was here with him, but he wasn’t _here with him._ Remus was used to it, though. He’d take what he could get.

************************************

On the third morning of their trip, Sirius slept in. He’d announced his intention to do so the night before, at three AM, when they had still been talking about nothing and everything. Remus, exhausted from traveling and sightseeing and _wanting,_ had readily agreed and turned off the alarm on his wand.

When Remus woke, however, he became immediately aware he’d made a mistake somewhere along the way. Sirius appeared to have completely redecorated the room while he was sleeping. The light from the Muggle bulbs had gotten a weak purplish glow that matched the colour of the new curtains. The closet had vanished, and in its place was a small rectangular stage with a microphone. Sirius was rummaging in the bathroom. Remus said a silent prayer of thanks that they had a bathroom to themselves, because whatever Sirius was up to probably wouldn’t bear the light of day.

“Padfoot, what…” he started, but fell silent when Sirius came out.

He was wearing the kilt, a pair of bright red platform boots, and nothing else. Or at least it looked like it. Remus’ mouth had gone dry. He swallowed convulsively.

Sirius climbed the stage with very little difficulty considering the hight of his footwear. He waved his wand, and a song started playing out of thin air. But the song. Remus recognized that song. Sweet Merlin.

 _Every single day,_ Sirius began, swaying from left to right, his slender hipbones just above the waist of the kilt. _I walk down the street._ His voice was deep and gravelly and gorgeous. Remus, his mouth hanging open and his cock hard under the sheets, watched, absolutely captivated, until Sirius got to _just remember that I’m your baby._ and pointed right at him. He vaulted up off the bed and grabbed both of Sirius’ hands, pulling him roughly down from the stage so Sirius stumbled a little. Sirius steadied himself on Remus’ shoulders. Remus didn’t think of the scars that covered the skin there; he thought of the warmth of Sirius’ hands.

“I love you,” Sirius whispered. “Thank you so much for bringing me here.”

Remus felt like he was flying. He was made of stars. Sirius lips were soft and dry and so wonder-fully warm, and Remus was just the slightest bit taller than him, just tall enough to tuck Sirius’ head under his chin.

“Just pay me back with one thousand kisses,” he said.

And over the years that came after, Sirius did just that.


End file.
